Angela's Deal
by LornaCat
Summary: Someone or something has sent Mary Alice back to resolve the relationships that were abandoned when she took her life.
1. Chapter 1  Back To Earth

Summary: Mary Alice had a much larger role in the lives of her former neighbors than she thought, and someone (or something) has sent her back to tie up loose ends.

Spoilers: all of the first 3 seasons are fair game, though some events from season 3 will be affected and altered by the actions in this story.

Rated M for language and adult situations, nothing _too_ graphic.

ANGELA'S DEAL

**Back To Earth**

_Oh Bree,_ thought Mary Alice. _How do you stay so naive?_

She was watching over Bree as she left the morgue with Orson, still in their wedding attire. Orson turned and whispered something in French, but Mary Alice already knew he'd just lied to Bree about the dead body.

She always liked to think that she would have handled things better if she were still on earth, but if hindsight was 20/20, foresight was an unfair advantage.

"You can't really see the future, you know." came a voice from the ether. The image of Bree disappeared, and Mary Alice was surrounded by white. It was so bright that she had to close her eyes, which confused her since she thought she had no eyes to close.

"What's the matter, Angela? Afraid you'll lose your sight?"

She didn't recognize the voice, and it seemed to come from everywhere at once. For the first time since her death, Mary Alice felt a confusion bordering on fear. Someone was invading her special little place in the sky.

"It's all right," said the voice, and suddenly it was right in front of her. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"I'm dead. You can't hurt me."

"Then why won't you look at me?"

Mary Alice opened her eyes slowly. The man in front of her looked average enough. He looked familiar, but then again his face kept changing. Every time she thought she had it, he would look like someone else, and every time she blinked he'd be wearing different clothes. He was looking at her like he knew all the answers to the questions he was about to ask, but he was going to go through them all anyway.

She couldn't decide which question of her own to ask first. _Who are you? Why are you here? Do I know you? How do you know my real name? Are you dead too?_

"Slow down, Angela." the man said, almost chuckling at her rush of thoughts. "I can't explain all of it to you now. Do you know where you are?"

Mary Alice couldn't name it. She hadn't encountered the fires of hell, but she hadn't seen any pearly gates either. For two and a half years she had been watching over Wisteria Lane and its residents, but now it felt like it had all gone by in a flash.

_Oh god...am I waking up from a coma?_

The man smiled. "No. You really are dead."

"But...I'm not in heaven?"

"Right. Unless you intended on spending eternity watching over the place where you killed yourself."

"They're my friends, I'm watching their lives unfold..."

It sounded nice, but something in the way he looked at her - it was almost pity - made her feel stupid to think that way.

"Were they your friends?" the man asked. "They knew next to nothing about you, Angela. And they didn't exactly share everything with you either."

"We all had our secrets," Mary Alice argued, still resisting his line of questioning.

"We've both said it by now: you're dead. You don't have to justify how you lived your life."

"Then why are you bothering me?"

"Because you have to justify your death."

_Bang._

Mary Alice felt the gun in her hand. She hadn't thought about the deed in a long time. (Or had it been a short time?) She remembered seeing her son cleaning up the blood she'd left on the floor, and the guilt took her over. Why hadn't she felt guilty back then (or was it happening now)?

"You took your life to escape that feeling, didn't you?" said the man standing in front of her, organizing her jumbled thoughts for her. "It's overwhelming, isn't it?" he whispered in her ear.

Mary Alice saw her funeral again (or for the first time?), and all the people bringing food to the Youngs' home afterward.

"Don't you remember, Angela? How you felt when you saw Susan cry?"

Yes, Mary Alice remembered. Though it felt different this time. More guilt washed over her but that was a secondary emotion. Why did she feel so angry?

"I don't understand."

"I know."

The visions disappeared, and she was surrounded by white again.

"You took your life so you wouldn't have to feel anymore. And you were so eager to make your escape that you convinced yourself you'd made it to paradise. But, Angela...you can't escape your life. You either die happy or you get stuck somewhere in between."

"In between what?"

The man looked at her, studying her face, searching her eyes for recognition. Maybe he was getting ahead of himself.

"Do you really think you've been better off than all of them?" He waved his hand and seemed to part the whiteness like it was made of clouds. Through the white she could see Wisteria Lane. "Just because you could see what they were doing?" There was judgement in his voice, a tone that made Mary Alice feel small and ashamed.

"You were envious before you died; they didn't have a secret as big as yours. And now you envy the lives they all get to keep on living. When something bad happens to them you're frustrated that you can't help. When something good happens it's worse. You think they don't deserve it, not like you deserved it, because you always had the shit end of the stick, the bad deal, all the unfulfilled dreams and passions..."

He was speaking so fast it made her dizzy. Light headed and nauseated...these were sensations a body felt. Mary Alice realized she had a body again.

"You thought you'd take the easy way out. There's a price attached to that." The man placed a hand on Mary Alice's back, gently guiding her away from the vision of that beloved street and toward a new one. She wanted to stop and explain exactly how wrong he was, that she enjoyed watching over her friends, but his words rang true. All the floating and watching she'd done had nothing to do with love and friendship.

The surrounding white parted, and the new view gave her vertigo. With his hand on her back, Mary Alice felt like she could fall back to earth at any moment. Slowly the scene came into focus. A man and a woman, in bed, having sex. It only took her a moment to recognize that the man was her husband, the woman beneath him was a prostitute and the bed was in a cheap motel room.

"What is this?" Mary Alice demanded, shocked and shaken. _Could dead people have bad dreams?_

"This isn't his first time, Angela. You've only seen what you wanted to see."

"No..." The feeling that the past two and a half years had happened in a flash came back to her, stronger this time. Had she really been so blind?

"No, I've seen everything. I watched him kill Martha Huber!"

"You've only seen," he repeated, slower this time. "What you wanted to see."

Mary Alice felt heavy. A heart began to beat in her chest as hard and heavy as a cathedral bell.

"Why are you showing this to me?"

"Because you can't burn a bridge you haven't crossed yet. And frankly, you're taking up space in limbo."

Mary Alice could see the prostitute's eyes. She didn't just look bored; she looked like the light had been turned off inside.

_Is that me?_ Mary Alice thought.

_Almost_.

"How do I get out of here?" Her puffy white cloud was no longer inviting. It had revealed itself as cheap plastic with a cartoon view. Mary Alice felt the hand on her back press a little harder.

_Don't be afraid. You'll figure it out._

"What if I don't?"

"Then I'll come down and explain it to you!"

He pushed, and she fell.


	2. Chapter 2 A New Body

**A New Body**

It was scary, and she wanted to scream, but there was no breath to take and it was over before it began. All of a sudden Mary Alice was Paul's company, or at least inhabiting the woman's body. She would have liked more time to get used to feeling things in a physical body before _this_, but to her eventual surprise and simultanaous disgust, she liked it. She couldn't remember the last time Paul had been inside of her, and despite the fact that this interaction had nothing to do with the woman's pleasure, it felt...nice. Or familiar. To a dead woman with a new body, there wasn't much of a difference yet.

Paul was getting rough with his motions. Mary Alice held on to the bed and waited for him to finish. She could tell he was almost done. She wanted to touch his face, to whisper in his ear just how he liked it, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. He wouldn't see his wife if she tried those things.

When it was over, Paul only took a moment to rest before getting up and gathering his clothes. Mary Alice curled up on the bed, trying to look 'normal.' What was the post-coital etiquette for prostitutes?

"When did you get out of prison?"

Paul tensed. She wasn't supposed to know that.

_Oops._ Of all the things she could have asked him, out of all the things she longed to break the silence with...

"What did you say?" he asked, accusatory and suspicious.

"I mean...it just seemed like you hadn't been with a woman in a while." Not quite the smoothest save, but she was still getting used to using a larynx again.

"Oh." Paul's face changed, as if he just realized he'd been fucking a human being.

Ah, there he was - her husband, Paul Young, the man she knew, the way she'd always wanted to remember him. Sensitive and concerned, before he'd been driven to kill, lie to his family and abandon his friends.

"Did I hurt you?"

The look on his face made her want to cry, but her failure to shed a tear reminded Mary Alice that no matter whose body she was inhabiting she was still quite dead.

"No." she lied.

Paul shrugged into his jacket, the look of concern fading away, back to the cold expression he'd worn since Mary Alice had left the world.

"How much was it again?" he asked, pulling out his wallet.

Mary Alice hesitated. What was the pricing scale for hookers? She glanced over at the clothes that remained on the floor.

"Um...three hundred."

Paul started to pull three bills from his wallet, but he stopped. He glanced at the body he'd just used, knowing that something had changed since she brought him to this hotel room but not knowing what it was. He pulled out two additional bills, and he left $500 in cash on the bed next to Mary Alice.

She watched him leave, neither of them saying another word. She had so much to tell him, so many things to ask, but something told her this wouldn't be the last time she saw him.

As Mary Alice dressed herself in the clothes from the floor, she heard the door open. A short old man with a ring of jangling keys shambled in, but he didn't look surprised to see her. Somehow Mary Alice knew it wasn't just the motel manager coming to check the room.

"So," he said, looking her over like a mechanic checking for dings. "Like the new body?"

""New"?" Mary Alice mocked him incredulously.

"Only babies come _new_, Angela. I didn't think reincarnating you would be the most efficient use of time."

"I feel like I'm going to throw up..."

"It gets worse before it gets better." He, or whatever it was that brought Mary Alice here, hobbled over to the bed and sat down. "Do you understand a little better now?"

"Understand what? What am I supposed to be doing?"

The old man looked pleased. "Exactly." He hopped off the bed, hobbling back toward the door.

"No, that was a question." Mary Alice protested.

"It was _the_ question." He corrected her, and then she was alone again.

Mary Alice found a purse, and looked inside to see if she had an address. When she found a driver's license she almost laughed out loud.

"Angela." She read. "Someone has a sense of humor."

She took a taxi to an okay part of town and found her apartment. It was cozy, and reminded her of where she lived when she first met Paul after college. So she was Angela once again. Maybe it was no coincidence that it all felt so familiar. The disorientation was fading, and the body was starting to feel like home. Angela looked in the mirror. Tomorrow she had to find a new job, a real job.

She wondered as she laid down to sleep how she would find Paul again. She wasn't even sure if she'd remember how to fall asleep, but as she felt herself drifting off her last thoughts were of dreams. Was all of this a dream?


	3. Chapter 3 A New Life

**A New Life**

Angela found a newspaper outside her apartment door in the morning. As she reached down to pick it up, she heard the door across the hall open. Out stepped none other than Paul Young, reaching for a paper of his own.

Angela briefly thought of ducking back into her apartment, but it was too late. Paul glanced up and recognized her immediately. She could tell he was mortified as he froze in his doorway. He broke eye contact quickly and turned to retreat, but something compelled Angela to say something.

"Good morning."

Paul stopped, confused.

"Listen, about last night..." said Angela. "Maybe it happened, maybe it didn't. We're next door neighbors now and I can't have you scared to open your door on my account."

"Fair enough." Paul replied. He smiled a small, wry smile. "I moved in three days ago."

"Ah, the irony. It's a nice building. You made a good choice."

Of course having only spend one night in the place, Angela had no idea how accurate that assessment was, but it seemed like the right thing to say at the moment. Was it deja vu or were these words necessary?

There was an awkward pause. The first, Angela was sure, of many.

"Well," Paul said, fiddling with the rubber band that secured the newspaper roll. "I'll see you around then."

"Sure."

Angela closed her door, separating the classified ads from the rest of the paper, and thought _Someone definitely has a sense of humor_.

"When can you start?" asked the general manager of the Fields Market on West Main Street. Somehow Angela had bluffed her way through her first interview.

"Uh, today?"

"Excellent. You'll be paid for the training."

Angela knew the store well. She'd shopped there on a weekly basis when she lived on Wisteria Lane as Mary Alice. She knew everyone else from Wisteria Lane shopped there too, and wasn't surprised to see a familiar face during the second hour of her first shift.

Timmy, the teenager who was training Angela in the checkout line, mumbled a hello, but Angela had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from reaching over to hug Lynette Scavo.

"Hi!" Angela blurted out, like a sun shining through Timmy's clouds.

Lynette looked up, thinking she'd been recognized.

"Hi." She stared into Angela's eyes, but the moment passed. "Sorry to stare, you just look so familiar. Did you check me out last week?"

"Probably not. I just started today."

"Oh..."

"OK, pay attention." Timmy interrupted them. Angela smiled at Lynette, then did as she was told. There was a problem with the cash register, and Timmy slowly stopped explaining what he was doing as he fiddled with the finicky machine. Angela watched Lynette search through her purse for a credit card.

"How are you today?" Angela asked, the only cashier in the history of the store that genuinely wanted to know about the customer.

"Fine," Lynette replied. "Aside from my step daughter's mother."

Anyone else might have missed it, but Angela could see Lynette's mental hiccup. She hadn't meant to say that out loud.

"You do look stressed." Angela said. A flash of annoyance crossed Lynette's face, and Angela realized that it must have sounded pretty rude coming from a stranger, no matter how sympathetic her tone. She had to stop doing that - no one else knew who she was.

"Kids tend to do that to a gal." said Lynette, brushing it off as she always did.

"How many do you have?"

"Four. No, five. Well, four full-time. It's complicated."

"Isn't it always?"

Lynette sighed. "It really is."

"Finally!" Timmy muttered. He jammed a button on the cash register and the drawer slid open with an oblivious ding.

"Are you sure we haven't met before?" asked Lynette.

"You never know. Fairview is a small enough town."

Timmy finished running Lynette's card through the system, and allowed Angela to tear off the receipt and hand it to her customer.

"Baby steps." Angela joked.

"Right. I guess I'll see you around." said Lynette, stuffing the paper into her purse.

Angela watched Lynette, who was so distracted on her way out that she almost ran over a floral display on her way.

"Well that is just going to bother her all day." Angela remarked idly.

Two hours later, another familiar face appeared in her aisle. Paul couldn't help but smile when he saw Angela grinning at him.

"Fancy meeting you here." Angela greeted him, again sounding much more chipper than she intended.

"I'd accuse you of following me, but you always seem to show up first." said Paul.

"Well as you can see, I've made a radical career change."

"Good for you."

She felt relieved that he took her quip well. He seemed charmed, and it filled her with a strange hope. It was as if she was getting to replay their romance over from the beginning.

"It's walking distance from our building." Angela said, though Paul obviously knew that already. "We were bound to run into each other even if I wasn't a cashier."

"No car?"

"You guessed it. You?"

"Same. I had to sell it to pay for..."

Timmy, still standing behind Angela, cleared his throat. Paul used his wallet to distract himself, as if he'd realized he was sharing too much.  
"They tell us not to talk to the customers too much." the trainer whispered apologetically. "It holds up the line."

"OK." Angela whispered back, even though they seemed to be the only three people in the store at the moment. She took a peek at Paul and caught him peeking right back. She started scanning his items in silence, and couldn't help but take a mental inventory - milk, instant coffee, store brand toilet paper - oh, how he'd fallen from the suburban standard of living.

"I mean, small talk is fine," Timmy added. "But you need to keep things moving."

"Right."

Even with permission, Angela couldn't think of anything clever to say. It really was like starting over.

She finished scanning, and told Paul his total. He was taking forever finding the right bills.

"Sorry..."

Suddenly Angela remembered the last time Paul had given her money. Memories...they felt strange after they way she'd experienced the world for the past two years, wherever she'd been before coming back.

"It's OK, take your time." said Angela. It was starting to sink in, how absurd the events of the last 12 hours had been, and she felt a laugh form in her diaphragm. The more Paul fumbled with his wallet, the more awkward and pathetic he became, and the less she could control it. A tiny giggle escaped Angela's mouth and, though it proved less than contagious, she could tell Paul was beginning to feel the absurdity as well.

As Paul walked away, wondering who this bubbly bombshell was and why she was making him feel like a normal person again, he realized he had just had a pleasant interaction with another human being. Sadly, it was the first time this had happened in a very long time. And of all the people to have it with...

Before he got to the sliding doors, he gave in to his curiosity and glanced back at her one more time. She'd been watching him go, and when she saw him looking she gave a little wave goodbye. She'd looked so plain when he picked her up on the other side of town, nothing remarkable. Now he couldn't wait for the next time he'd run into her again.


	4. Chapter 4 An Old Dream

**An Old Dream**

On her way home from her first day of work, Angela heard her stomach growl.

"Oh." She'd said aloud, fascinated by the very idea of needing food again. "I'm hungry."

It had been almost twenty-four hours since she'd been awakened and she hadn't eaten a crumb. The growling had been triggered by the strong smell of gourmet pizza, so Angela looked up at the restaurant she just happened to stop in front of. The sign said _Scavo Pizzeria_.

"What?!" Angela squeaked. "When did this happen?"

With a child's hushed excitement, Angela entered the restaurant. It was just past the dinner rush, and there was no line at the counter. She stepped up to it, staring at the menu.

"Can I help you?" said the boy behind the counter. Angela did a double take when she recognized him; it was Andrew Van de Kamp.

"...Andrew?"

"That's what the name tag says, anyway."

Angela couldn't do much more than stare. He looked so...grown up.

"Sorry, I don't remember if we know each other." he said.

"I'm a friend of your mother's." Angela improvised. "From way back."

_I didn't even have to lie._

Andrew nodded politely. "Can I get you anything?"

"Hmm...something really big, I'm starving."  
"Do you like lasagna?"

"Oooh, lasagna..."

"I'll take that as a yes."

Angela watched Andrew cut a square from a waiting pan. She realized it wasn't brain surgery, but this was the boy that used to pick fights with Zach during play dates. How had she missed it? He'd become a young man.

_He used to pick fights, yes. What else did he do? To Bree?_

Angela was having trouble remembering why she was surprised he was so mature, but her heart swelled with pride to see him back in town and behaving himself.

"How is your mother doing?" she asked.

"She's fine." Andrew said right away, as a reflex. He thought about it for a moment, and realized it was the truth. "She's doing really well, actually. A lot better than she was."

_He cares so much. _

Angela smiled. "That's so good to hear."

Tom Scavo came out from the kitchen then, approaching the counter with that goofy grin of his.

"Welcome to Scavo's!" he said to his customer. "Everything alright so far?"

"It's great." said Angela, looking around the restaurant, taking in her surroundings and all the delicious smells.

"Great! Don't forget the breadsticks, Andrew."

"Sure thing, Mr. Scavo."

Angela sat down with her food. She stared at it for a few seconds, letting the anticipation of her first bite grow. She noticed a familiar song on the radio, a pop hit from the 80's.

_Music!_

The lasagna was gone in minutes, before Andrew had the chance to bring her a glass of water. She gulped that down too, not putting the glass down until all the water was gone.

"Oh my god..." she said between breaths. "So good!"

Andrew tried not to make a weird face. "You want some more?"

"Please!" said Angela. "Um..." she continued, glancing at the menu. "The fettucini...and...a salad."

"A side salad?"  
"No, a full portion. With extra dressing. Please."

Angela didn't have to work the next day, so that night she took the opportunity to remember what it was like to stay up way too late. Her feet still ached from standing behind the cash register all day, her arms and shoulders from lifting shopping bags. All the aches and pains a normal person would be sick of felt beautiful to her, like her body was being colored in. The more a body aches, the more pleasure it feels when it's relieved.

Later, when she could no longer resist the siren call of sleep, Angela got the opportunity to remember what it was like to have a dream. Paul was in it, and they were walking through a dark forest. All of their neighbors from Wisteria Lane had been left behind at some sort of camp grounds as Angela and Paul went off on a journey of their own. Angela looked up, and saw bassinets perched in the trees.

_Rock a bye baby, on the tree tops..._

_Oh, how awful_ Angela thought through her sleep, realizing that she and Paul were waiting for the wind to blow. She turned to find comfort in his arms, but he was gone. Alone, the forest became darker. Stumbling through the trees she kept seeing little animals in various states of decay. Her dream had turned into a nightmare, disorienting and sick. Angela saw her hands streaked with blood, and she cried out. She lost her footing, tripping on an exposed root. She tried to get her balance but it only amounted to getting her spun around, and she fell flat on her ass.

Every moment of helplessness she'd ever felt in her previous life rushed up and stole her breath and heartbeat from her. She felt dead again, her new toy taken away. Angela burst into tears, sobbing as she held her dirty, blood stained hands in front of her face.

"What's wrong with me?!" she screamed. When had it started raining? The water came down in sheets, as the trees had somehow lost their leaves and no longer provided cover. She saw her clothes were also stained red, and as the rain soaked her and chilled her to the bone, she couldn't tell the difference between the blood and the water.

Angela squeezed her eyes shut and screamed again. No words this time, but something from deep inside of her, a secret pain that could no longer remain hidden.

Then silence. No more rain, no howling wind or babies crying. Angela was still in the dark, dark woods, but it felt simpler than before. Just woods...

"Just a meeting place." a voice, _the_ voice said. The angel, the demon, the motel manager, whatever It was that had pushed her off her cloud. It was here, in her dream forest.

"Did you do that?" Angela asked him, suspicious. Her throat hurt.

"Do what?" he (yes, it appeared to be a man again) said.

Angela looked at her hands. Like the woods, they were clean again.

"I'm still dreaming, right?"

"Sort of. You could say I hijacked it."  
"Hijacked it." Angela repeated. The release had exhausted her, and she didn't feel as compelled by curiosity as she had during their first two conversations. All he did was talk her in circles anyhow.

"How does it feel?" he asked her. She knew without an explanation that he meant her new body.

"It felt pretty good up until now." she admitted. Just one day and she'd already gotten used to her new life. Was this dream really just her conscience trying to remind her of the task at hand?

"Just remember what you're here for."

"I haven't forgotten," said Angela. "Because no one really told me in the first place. I'm still figuring it out."

"Okay."

"Can I wake up now?" Angela asked him. She could see the sun through the trees, and started to get worried that she'd overslept.

"You control your destiny." said the demon-angel. It sounded sarcastic, and when he winked at her Angela found herself back in her apartment.


	5. Chapter 5 I Made A Mistake

Angela was moonlighting in the produce department at Fields Market on her second day of work when she saw Susan Mayer getting herself tangled up in a label printer.

"Oh dear, oh dear..." Susan kept repeating as the labels kept pouring out.

"Here, let me help." Angela said. She wasn't sure how to stop the sticker tape, but she was sure she'd be able to figure it out before Susan.

"Oh thank god," said Susan. "I was about to get wrapped like a mummy."

Angela tried the easiest solution first - she hit the off switch.

"Now why didn't I think of that?" Susan asked. They both looked around at the piles of paper, and Susan bent down to pick it up. "Here, let me get this."

"No, don't worry about it! That's my job." Angela stooped down, blocking access to Susan's mess.

"Wow, you must be new." said Susan. "I do something like this at least once a week. They even have a mop named in my honor."

"We all have our clumsy moments." Angela reassured her with a warm smile. She'd never been bothered by Susan's hijinks; while others had gotten exasperated, she'd always felt more _aw _than _ugh_. "Some just have more than others." As she said it, she got that feeling of deja vu again.

Susan felt it too. "That sounded a lot like what a friend of mine used to say."

"Why wouldn't she say it now?"

Susan hesitated; it wasn't information you shared with just anyone, but this was just a stranger...wasn't it?

"She died." Susan revealed. She made it sound like it hurt to say. And, curiously, Susan hadn't said '_she killed herself_.'

"I'm so sorry." Angela said, and she meant it.

Angela remembered again Susan's tears during and after her funeral. It hit her just how much Susan had cared for her, and yet Angela felt compelled to ask yet another rude question.

_Oh, you greedy ghost. _

"How did she die?"

Did it offend Susan, or did Susan look into Angela's eyes, confused, because she heard something else familiar in Angela's voice? _I must look pretty damn sympathetic and trustworthy,_ Angela thought, because - as with Paul and Lynette - Angela's surface rudeness was overlooked. And just like Paul and Lynette, Susan took a deep breath and shared something personal with Angela, this person she thought she didn't know.

"It was an accident." said Susan, and she believed it. Angela was beginning to believe it too. It sure would help explain her recent re-existence in Fairview.

_Was it a mistake?_

Not the kind of revelation Angela was prepared to have next to the fruit display.

_I made a mistake._

"Wow, first I make a mess and then I make us both cry."

"What?" Angela whispered, quickly pawing at her eyes. They were wet with tears.

Susan stood and apologized, wiping some dirt from her jeans.

"No, it's my fault!" Angela insisted. "I didn't mean to pry."

"If I learned one thing from it," Susan smiled again. "It was to share our burdens, not hide them. If I don't talk about it, it'll eat at me forever."

A manager, alerted by Timmy, approached the two ladies.

"Is everything all right?" he asked, hesitant and a little frightened at the sight of two women crying.

Susan waved him off. "We were just having a moment. Your label printer is sick, by the way."

_The novelty of pain has officially worn off__._Angela thought as she climbed the stairs to her third floor apartment after another long day of standing. As she looked in her purse for her key, another tired soul made his way up the steps. Paul didn't see her at first, as he was staring into space, but when he looked up, and almost imperceptible smile crossed his face.

"Long day?" Angela asked.

"Job hunting." he said with a sigh.

"Any luck?"

"We'll see...I guess." Paul dug absent mindedly in his left pocket for his own keys. He was tired; not just physically, but with life. He was pessimistic about his search for sure, but he didn't even seem concerned about waking up the next morning.

"Hey...you want a drink?" Angela asked.

Angela sat, curled up on her couch, across from Paul. He took another sip of whatever Angela had given him, something amber colored and sweet she'd found in her kitchen cabinet. He was being so quiet, and she longed to hear him speak. He could have said anything at all, as long as it was in that low timbre of his.

"So what kinds of jobs were you looking for?" she asked.

He sat silent for a moment.

"Security guard." he replied, without a hint of irony.

Angela laughed a little, trying to hold it in and failing miserably.

Paul raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth turning up. "Pretty stupid, huh?"

"Not stupid, just...unlikely."

Was that a smile she saw forming?

"That's the first time I've seen you smile." Angela said. '_Since I've been back' _was the part she kept to herself.

Paul shrugged. "I guess you have that effect on me."

He looked at her then, with a curious expression.

_I bet he's wondering why I trust him. _She felt so comfortable, so safe.

"You remind me of someone I knew." said Paul. "In another life."

Angela's heart jumped.

_Can he see me?_

"Do you believe in past lives?" she asked him.

Paul smiled, but not like before. It was wry, and sad this time. "I meant it figuratively." He stared into his drink, contemplating telling her something. Angela imagined herself nuzzling her head in his neck, knew how it would feel curling up beside him so he could tell her everything, but she remained on her side of the couch.

"I should go." he said, still staring into the glass.

"...Are you sure?" Angela asked quietly, willing him to look at her again.

When he did, there was something dark and serious in his eyes. He nodded and put his drink down. He thanked her for the drink, letting her walk him to the door. She watched him cross the short distance to his apartment.

"I'm here, if you ever want to talk about...anything." said Angela.

"Thanks." Paul replied. His expression was soft, and Angela hoped it was as much from their conversation as it was from the alcohol.

Moments after closing her door, there was a loud knock. Excited, thinking it had to be Paul, she ran back to open up. A short, fat man with a ring of keys on his belt stood before her.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

The man smiled. "It's me."

"Oh." said Angela, in the most disappointed tone ever mustered. She let him into the apartment.

"Reconnecting?" he asked, gesturing toward the empty glasses on her coffee table.

Angela didn't answer, so distracted by thoughts of Paul that she ignored his question and asked her own.

"Will anyone be able to know who I really am? Is that...allowed?"

"Do you think they would believe you if you told them?"

Angela frowned. "No." She answered truthfully. "But you've seen their reactions - they recognize me, even if they don't realize it."  
"You have a magnetic personality, Angela. You must have meant a lot to them, to reach beyond your physical appearance like that."

"Wow. That was almost a straight forward answer. Everything okay in the Twilight Zone?"  
The man chuckled, another first. "Just trying to keep you on your toes. I'll leave you alone now."

"Hey, uh...could you snap your fingers or something when you're about to disappear? It really freaks me out when you just...vanish like that."

He slowly raised his hands, touching his middle fingers to his thumbs. "I'll be back." he said, Terminator style, and snapped. She blinked, and he was gone.

"What a dork." Angela sighed. Whatever _he_ was, he'd been in a good mood. Angela realized that she had been too. Seeing Paul smile gave her hope; for what, she didn't know just yet, but it was enough to keep her going.


End file.
